Silver Eyed
by Taluliaka
Summary: After rescuing Logan from an experimenting facility, the XMen discover startling changes in him. Will they cast him out? And the humans will stop at nothing to get their weapon back... ON HIATUS
1. Rescue

_Greetings, all you people out there. I have started a new fanfic ( gathp) OMG! Um, yes, I like Wolverine…He will feature a lot in my fic…yeah. But I don't like Jean! As far as I'm concerned she's dead, she died and that's flat. Again, no-brainer writer. Absolutely no idea where I'm going with this. This chapter has been hanging around for ages with absolutely no further inspiration so I decided to post it. Soo, welcome to …_

**Silver Eyed**

**Disclaimer: **_What are you talking about? I OWN X-Men! Bring on thy court cases. MOOHAHAHAHAHAAAA! (Ahem, if anyone took that previous sentence seriously, please take into account I am psychotic and have strange turns sometimes into believing I own major, money-making ideas. Ok? Rightio…moving on)_

**Chapter 1: Rescue**

The dark army truck skidded slightly on the thin crust of ice that covered the roads crisscrossing the Canadian highlands. Soldiers, holding their guns in nerveless hands, sat along one wall, their hooded eyes never leaving the dark shape slumped at the other side of the vehicle. Occasionally, patches of sunlight would flash through the small windows and cast dappled shadows across their uniforms of black leather and wave gently across the floor to the captive. The mutant hadn't moved through the long three hour journey on the highway from Alkali Lake. Their destination was a bigger, more heavily guarded institute in New York, where the procedure would be completed and, hopefully, the weapon finished.

Although the mutant was only a dark shape, huddled against the wall where he had been chained when the journey began, his hooded eyes flashed at the line of grim, silent soldiers who guarded him. The ragged clothes he had been caught in still hung across his rugged frame and his feet were bare. The mutant's harsh features were hard to distinguish from the shadows, so to physically check whether the drugs that restrained the mutant had worn off, or the chains that held him had weakened, one would have to approach the mutant in his dark corner. And as the journey progressed, and the sunlight shone through more faintly, the dark vehicle became an area of terror and half-imagined specters for the uncomfortable men. They had not dealt a lot with mutants and, although the mutant's powers had been explained, an aura of mystery and fear hung about the truck. And still the highway rolled on.

The leader of the soldiers, John Westworth, had become more uncomfortable as the night rolled in and, when an unexpected shuffle came from their charge, he jumped and silently cursed himself for his paranoia. With an angrily muttered retort, he reached up and switched on the bright lights, which bathed the interior in a matter of seconds with a light eerily reminiscent of an operating theatre. Their captive jerked slightly as the light washed over him and his dark eyes darted to the ceiling, before running over the soldiers. The thick chains that bound him were attached to the wall and coldly gripped his ankles, legs, wrapped around his chest, snaked down his arms and ended with a thick manacle on each wrist. Across both hands was a curious piece of metal like a medieval gauntlet, which wrapped thickly across the mutant's knuckles and the top of his hands. Unattached to these bonds was a thick band of metal across his throat, a mocking parody of a dog's collar, with a lighter but stronger chain wrapped tightly around the pole that ran just above the mutant's watchful eyes.

Seeing why the lights had been switched on, the mutant smiled quietly, amusedly at the nervous leader. Seeing this, Westworth, in a fit of false bravado for the sake of his men, strode across and, looping the neck chain about his hand, gave it a fierce tug, bending the mutant's neck up and painfully twisting it to one side. This was a useful and effective way of disabling the captive, for, with his neck stretched at an odd angle, and the rest of his body chained to the ground, it put him at a disadvantage to defend himself from injections or punishment.

'That's enough of that,' Westworth snarled. 'Don't give us any trouble, you hear? Or I will personally strangle you with this chain until you beg for your life!' This act of courage seemed to calm the troops but the captive's eyes flamed.

Having reassured the troops and disliking the way the mutant was staring at him, the soldier gave the chain a last savage tug and retied it firmly, and on a shorter lead so the mutants' neck was slightly stretched. Returning to his place among the men, he had only just sat down when the truck swerved off the road with a screech of tyres. For a second, the vehicle spun out but straightened. As a storm thundered alarmingly close overhead, the vehicle spun off again but this time off the road into space, smashing down the side of the high path they were on.

For a second, all hell broke loose inside the back of the truck, men yelling as they flew around inside, seeking something to hang onto, the truck rolling down the hill and a grinding clang as it stopped, poised, halfway down the slope. The truck was on its side and Westworth was flat on his back. Hanging above him from his chains was the mutant. His face was contorted into a mask of pain, gasping as he hung painfully in the air, unable to breathe from the collar choking him as it tightened its hold on his neck. Then the truck was upright again and somehow traveling backwards up the hill, back to solid ground. An almost inaudible groan sounded from the mutant, still enmeshed in his chains and bent almost double, struggling to breathe against the collar which had been smashed tightly about his neck. His fingers scrabbled uselessly against its cruel tightness. There were yells, screams coming from outside the van and Westworth stumbled to the door, grabbing a gun from the ground. Cautiously, he opened one of the heavy metal doors on the back of the truck and peered out.

Dark figures moved swiftly amongst the confused and rapidly firing soldiers that were scattered about outside. A storm flickered about one of them, lightening waving in her hair and her eyes gleaming white. 'Mutants!' he gasped. Another one was blasting holes in people with a red light which seemed to be coming out of a pair of goggles he was wearing. But it was the mutant that materialized right in front of him that actually drove a cry of fear from him. It was a demon, a blue furry demon, with a furry tail clutching a gun and glowing yellow eyes! Westworth stumbled backwards, further into the truck. The mutant approached, than disappeared, leaving a blue smoky vapour in the air. The next, a solid foot to the jaw laid Westworth low.

Kurt stepped into the truck, over the unconscious soldier, keen eyes searching through the shadows before alighting on the gleam of silver chains and a silent figure. Fluidly, Kurt slid closer and was rewarded by the sight of Logan. The man looked pale and exhausted but alive. Then he stepped closer. Logan's chest wasn't moving. He wasn't breathing! With a murmur of disgust at the cruel bonds that held the man still, he slipped his fingers onto Logan's neck, searching for a pulse. What happened next made him jerk with surprise. Logan's eyes opened wide. They were bright silver.

Kurt leaped back, his own eyes wide with astonishment, then stepped closer and waved a hand uncertainly in front of Logan's bright orbs. He didn't react. It was just a reflex. Then Logan blinked and, with weak hands, he touched the cold metal around his neck again. Whispering soothing words in German, Kurt reached slowly over and examined the smashed collar. It was cutting off Logan's breathing. 'It's all right, _mein freund_. I'll help you.' Kurt reassured Logan as the feral's eyes drifted shut again. Then he was gone, reappearing right next to Scott, who whirled and then relaxed visibly when he saw it was just Kurt. 'What's up, Kurt?' Scott yelled over the general noise. 'I've found Logan! But I need your help. He can't breathe.'

When the two mutants re-entered the truck, Logan was dangerously still again. His breathing was no longer audible until his entire body shuddered and he took a slight breath. Scott stepped forward, shaking his head slightly, no expression on his face and then aimed carefully, firing with his laser. The collar broke and Logan slumped quietly against the wall, his shaky breathing slowly becoming louder and deeper. He opened his eyes again and the bright silver made Scott swear in surprise. Slowly the silver dulled back to the light hazel colour they had normally been and they turned to Kurt and Scott. 'Are you all right?'

Logan opened his mouth to answer when he gasped and his eyes jerked rapidly to silver again in the instant before he collapsed forward and they closed. Westworth rose slowly, staring in triumph at the syringe now hilt-deep in Logan's neck, smirking as Logan gasped in agony, his bones reacting to the molten adamantium now pumping through his system. He curled into a fetal position. Logan's eyes shuddered closed, the sound of his chains clinking slightly the last thing he heard.

_ooo _**REVIEW PLEASE!** _I will try to update soon but I shall need reviews ( and chocolate) to do so. So pleae, citizens, help a poor author make a living off the streets ( ooh I can just feel the sympathy at that 'off the streets' line) _

**_Signing out, from Taluliaka_**


	2. Animal

_Hi! I'M BACK! I've been taking a short break and shuffling around all the new stories. Found a few goodies…posted a few reviews…Now, to business!_

_**Blix Howlett: **Hey, I'm glad you liked it! Oh I know the feeling, I wuv Wolvie too! (smiles idiotically as well) What did he do? Pumped him full of molten adamantium, that's what! Like in X2, with the random chick Wolvie fights with at the end with long fingernails! But there's only enough to hurt like hell AND do something else (note: read chapter) If you're still confused, it brings on the fit of angriness ok?_

_**Blood-Fangs: **(cleans teeth with suspicious looking bone and burps) Hmm, I think I took the 'bite him hard' thing a bit too hard. I ate him! (Taluliaka laughs evilly and flings bone behind her)Ok I'm updating!_

_**Wolflver: **Hiya! Erm, I think Logan does something he might regret in this chapter... (coughs nervously) OH WELL! Thanks for the complimenteyyes! Much appreciated!_

_**RhiannonUK: **Oh hey! I feel so happy! An amazing author has reviewed my humble story! By the way, love your story. I sent you a review too! So glad you reviewed. You raised my spirits! Wow, I'm still ataken aback! Oh just muttering sideways to you, My English teacher doesn't know I write! (She's too dumb) She just reckons I'm just one other not-listening, bored kid…he hee!_

_**Dragonandthewerewolf: **Hey cool name! Yes sir! (salutes) I am updating as commanded sir! Yay! Hope you enjoy the chappie! And now, on with…_

**Silver Eyed**

**Disclaimer: **_(Taluliaka pauses, caught in the act of opening the sacred box which holds the ownership papers for X-Men very subtly and quietly armed with a sledgehammer and smiles, hiding it behind her back) Hi there! Nothing suss happening here! I don't own it!_

**Oh, the italics in the story is Logan thinking, or talking inside himself, or whatever. Ok? On we go...**

**Chapter 2: Animal**

The next time Logan awoke, it was to a strange rumbling vibrating through his body. Feigning sleep, he lay still, his finely attuned senses orientating themselves. He was in the air, in a plane? A military helicopter? There was a soft bed beneath him, the low murmur of voices throughout the enclosed space…but he could feel secure bonds around his hands and arms. What had happened? He remembered Scott… and Kurt... but everything else was lost.

There was a dull ache to the back of his neck, where a syringe had recently pierced. He had known that sensation long enough to recognize it. There was a similar ache in his bones but it was weak and could easily be pushed aside, easily ignored, unlike the crushing pain of molten adamantium when the syringe was first pressed in. However, he knew, the worst was yet to come. But the bonds…then someone was approaching, their soft footsteps ringing like death-knells. Before his mind could react, he'd flipped himself off the soft bed into a half-crouch, ready to deal with any enemies, his eyes darting about. He _was_ on the X-Jet, with Dr. Hank McCoy, a man he vaguely remembered as the replacement of Jean before… capture.

Hank had stopped arms slightly out in front of him in a calming gesture. He was speaking, meaningless words whose translations were lost in Logan's whirling thoughts.

Hank tried to touch him and he shied away, eyes momentarily darkening as he watched Hank distrustfully. 'Why am I tied up?' The suspicious tone made Scott sigh from the front, where he was piloting the jet. He called back, 'Well, how were we supposed to know what you would do when you woke up? Stryker could've screwed with your brain or something. They screwed with your eyes, that's for sure.' The feral's eyes had now drifted to Scott's back but he didn't respond to Scott's challenging tones. The rest of the team were still advancing on him, their intent sending a shiver through him. With one fluid motion, Logan's claws snapped out and he drew them swiftly to the sides, cutting the bonds with one stroke. The release of the claws helped clear Logan's head. Unfortunately, it also cleared something else.

Even as Logan stiffened, awaiting what he knew would happen, such a burst of white-hot agony burst through him he was sent to the floor, cluctching his head with clenched hands, willing the fit away. Even as he sheathed the claws, they burst out again, the wounds gaping forth again with such vigour it sent a shiver of pleasure and horror

combined down his spine. His hazel eyes lightened to the same glaring silver as before, releasing the same wrath and passion that he released only in his worst hours, whether alone in the woods or, more recently, in that godamned cell, surrounded by smirking guards ready to drag him back to the lab of horrors he couldn't escape from even in his dreams.

The same fury that nearly made him lose control when Stryker had attacked the school and he had killed that first guard, stirring such an unnatural urge inside him to stab the man again and again until his claws were hilt-deep in the flowing blood that he began trembling uncontrollably with longing. That same berserker bloodlust they had somehow captured and bent to their will, planning to control him and use the silver flush in his eyes to warn them when he had lost control, the same he felt now… They were still there, standing around, the human groans and gargles pouring from their mouths, almost muffled by the pounding of their hot, crimson blood, the same blood he would release in floods onto the steel floor, until it became a skating-rink for the bloodthirsty…_No! They were his friends, the ones who had rescued him. Oh God, how was he supposed to tell them?_

One of them stopped closer and his fevered eyes snapped upwards, fixing onto the throat, the jugular vein. He began to shake again, his body contracting like a cat for the leap from the polished floor onto her but..._ no! This was 'Ro, one of the team, who had never done him any injury! Stop staring at her throat, you animal! Get rid of the claws! Sheathe them, idiot, sheathe them!_ The urge for blood was growing so powerful the feral staggered sideways as he got up, neatly turning in a circle and using the combination of muscle and metal in his leg to send her spinning into the wall. Then he was there, right next to her face, the claws resting ever so lightly on her golden throat, crazed orbs glaring into hers. She was speaking again, the fear rolling off her in waves, her black eyes dilated with mute horror as she stared into two equally hollow silver pits. He bared his teeth into a savage grin, relishing the moment, drinking in her heat, her screams.

Even as Logan smashed her into the wall, his claws grazing her throat, Ororo tried to call his name, tried to bring some sense of reason, some hint of hazel, back into those dead eyes. She desperately didn't want to resort to shocking him, with the metal coating his bones and so soon after they had rescued him from the army. By then, Scott, hand on his visor, had placed the jet onto autopilot and was advancing on the pair. Hank and Kurt seemed reluctant to hurt their friend but had unconsciously drawn closer, eyes wide at the severity of the situation. 'Ororo, shock him.' Scott's tone was grim. Ororo was frozen, staring like a hunted deer into the eyes of a predator. 'Ro, look at me. _Look at me_.'

Tearing her gaze away, Ororo stared at Scott in mute obedience. 'You have to hit him with a lightening bolt _now_. Okay? Do you understand? I'm going to come over and hit him too. Hopefully, that'll take him out long enough to..' Scott didn't bother finishing the sentence, merely started advancing slowly down the corridor, trying not to draw attention from Logan. A low snarl snaked its way across the feral's chest. Although he still stared at his captive, he had lost her eye contact and she was no longer as frightened as she had been. The waves of fear had died, replaced by a grim determination and this unsettled the feral. He should kill her now before she tried something. Suddenly he was aware, with a flick of the eyes, that another was approaching. Logan's eyes flared brighter as he reached out with heightened senses. Waiting, he suddenly twisted, keeping his claws aimed at the female's throat and kicked out with the same force as before. Scott flew backwards, smashing a wall and promptly sliding down it with a groan.

Turning his attention back to his victim, he drew forward, ready to punch his blades straight through her throat. They swept forward…_No! I won't do it! I won't be beaten by an animal! No! _With a terrible cry, Logan forced his claws away. His entire body shrieked in disgust at the loss of his prey and the metal in his body shrilled in agreement. His bloodlust would not be unfulfilled. Gasping with the effort, he shut his senses to the bodies pumping with blood, fresh blood and slumped to his knees again, twisting his body away from Ororo desperately. With all his senses turned inwards, the sharp thump of his heart in his own ears, Logan hung on to the last scrap of sanity he had and indulged the roar in his being for carnage, for death.

The claws twisted, gouging deep into his own chest, completing his being in an icy rush of pain and satisfaction that drove his strength away. The silver hue that disfigured his eyes dropped like a shroud, bringing a new level to the pain as the numb sensation of his fit died away. Finally, Logan summoned his last reserves of strength and yanked the slick weapons from his heart with a jerk, painted red to his knuckles . They slid slowly back into the prison of his hands, sated in their lust for blood and he bent slowly to the floor, cold and smooth against his burning forehead even as his life-blood drained from him onto it. He sighed with sincere relief, stretching his senses and finding no bodies, no stench of blood besides his own.

It was over.

_**WEEEE! **(Taluliaka swings in on a jungle vine that's mysteriously appeared out of nowhere) Okay review people! NEED…FEEDBACK…_

**_Signing out, from Taluliaka!_**


	3. Doubts

_HELLO! The inflow of reviews telling me to continue has forced me to… well… continue. Hoorah!_

_**Dory Shotgun: **Oh, I didn't know I would be getting less reviews if I asked for logged-in ones. Hmm... Oh well, thanks for telling me. I've changed it!_

_**Crazycatluver: **Well, thanks for reading the story and all that jazz. Thanks for saying I keep them in character! (I hoped I had)_

_**Blood –Fangs: **Ho hum! Nice Gollum impression! Sorry for eating him and all. Ahem. (shyly hands over a newly-healed Logan) Here! Have a new one!I'm glad you liked it!_

_**Nini the Electrocuted Sheep: **Hee hee! I freaked you out so you can't even type out normal sentences! (I can't even do that normally) I reckoned it was intense too (even if I do say so myself) I had to take lots of deep breaths while writing it!_

_**Hottietom: **What is wrong with who? Logan? Me? THAT GREEN CHICKEN BEHIND YOU? Bet you looked! LoL! Um, yes, just ignore me. A bit too much sugar and too less sleep!_

_**WolvieandSamwise: **oh oooh! Yes, give me thy cookies! ALL OF YOU! Give me cookies and chocolate and I solemnly swear I will keep on writing! (Insert evil laugh here)_

_**THANKS FOR REVIEWING! **Now then on with …_

**Silver Eyed**

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own a thing from X-Men. Apart from this story. Well actually, the characters, their speech, appearance, their world is all yours but the paper I wrote it on is MINE! Come and get it, all you lawyers! I won't give it up! (Insert another evil laugh here)_

_Geez, I'm hungry. I'm off to make myself a home-made pizza. (Less fat, you know) while you guys read this!_

**Chapter 3: Doubts**

For a moment, all was still. The horror of what they had just witnessed froze the X-Men to the spot, eyes trained on the circle of blood rapidly spiraling outwards from the silent figure. Then Ororo stumbled backwards, one hand trembling lightly on her throat, on the spots of blood, a reminder of what Logan could have done to her. Her legs hit a chair and she sat, overcome by shock. From the opposite corner Scott groaned, rising slowly from his position on the ground, his blurry eyes taking in the scene. Kurt had moved to Ororo's side and crouched by her, speaking softly with the weather goddess, trying to break her out of whatever daze held her motionless, liquid eyes focused on the crouched feral.

Scott's gloved fingers tenderly probed the back of his head, the fingertips coming away bloody. At this sight, his demeanor darkened, brows furrowed and his hand automatically went to his visor as he strode over to where Logan crouched, aiming carefully.

In this defensive stance, he turned his head to where Ororo sat and called protectively, 'Did he hurt you, 'Ro?' There was no reaction. Ororo's hands were still stroking her throat, her eyes still fixed somewhere far away. Taking this and the apparent silence from the other X-Men, Scott fixed a livid glare back onto Logan, growling, 'You bastard. What the hell did you do to her?' Logan could feel the stab marks in his chest receding from potentially fatal wounds to painful slash marks to fading bruises. The icy pain and his rasping breaths receded as his lungs repaired the damaged tissue and he took a deep breath of air stained with the scent of his blood. He had heard the damning question from Scott who hovered angrily above him but couldn't answer it. _Oh, yes you can, you freak. You nearly stabbed a hole through her throat. After they came after you, and everything. Jesus, I should be in a cage. Not safe around normal people…_Logan's body arched in self-disgust and he felt the urge to stab himself again, this time from hatred, rather than desperation. _You blood-loving, murdering, clawed FREAK! _

A growl shook deep through his chest as he stood, locking furious eyes with Scott's veiled ones. Scott's hand rested gently on the dial on his visor, facing off against the dangerous mutant boldly. He longed to twist the dial from stun to a killing blast in revenge for Ororo's obvious terror. He could tell that Logan's eyes weren't silver anymore. A darker hue of red gleamed in his eyes, not the lighter, more glittering crimson that had unnerved even Scott with his limited vision of before. He stared more, trying to read Logan's expression and saw fury and self-disgust written in them, a bitter look that puzzled Scott all the more.

Logan turned slowly to Ororo and witnessed the blind terror in them of a hunted animal, rather than a courageous and calm woman. Something twisted deep in his gut. That was the look the students had given him after Alkali Lake as they avoided him in the corridors, dropping their gaze to avoid eye contact with such a monster. Turning back to their leader, Logan's keen eyes caught the subtle shift of Scott's hand on his visor to kill. 'Why don't you do it, _Cyclops_? You know you want to.' Scott almost screamed with fury, incensed almost beyond coherent thought by the mocking tone, even though there was no trace of humour on Logan's face. Logan waited, half-hoping he might do it/ A moment or so passed and Logan turned abruptly, heading to the back of the jet and slumping in a chair, one leg drawn up to his chest, eyes still burning into Scott's. Finally Scott turned and headed back to the cockpit, shaking angrily.

Professor Xavier could tell something was wrong before the X-Jet even touched down. He wheeled himself down to the lower levels swiftly, normally calm face tight with anxiety at the streams of anger and fear coming from the jet. As the boarding ramp came down, Scott strode out, placing himself on land almost as the ramp touched the ground. He took a place next to Charles' wheelchair, glaring back up at the jet.

Next came Ororo, leaning heavily on Kurt. The fear radiating from her worried Charles deeply. Then Hank, his eyes trained on the ground, an unnaturally sad look on his furry pleasant face. The last was the one they had gone to find, Logan. He paused for a moment at the top, guilt and anger warring for a position on his face. The next moment he was down, the animalistic grace still apparent in his movements. He stood quietly a few meters away from the others, gaze downcast, not meeting Xavier's eyes at all.

But Charles didn't need eye contact to feel the self-hatred radiating from him. Xavier looked from one man to the other. From the corner of his eye, he could see the other three leaving, obviously reluctant to get involved in the confrontation. 'What happened?'

There was only a few seconds of silence before Scott launched into a rage. 'What happened? I'll tell you what happened! That animal…that, that _freak _nearly killed Ororo! He was an inch from putting his claws through her throat! And when I tried to stop him, he knocked me out! When I woke up, 'Ro was in shock and he was just…_sitting _there. Oh my God! It was…just…' Scott paused in his tirade, unable to find words to explain the anger that brewed inside him. Charles turned to Logan. 'Is this true?' Logan flinched at the words as though they had been shouted. Then he smiled savagely, turning cool eyes to where Scott stood, fists clenched at his sides. 'Pretty much. Scooter explained it so well, I really don't need to change the story.' There was an undercurrent of guilt in his voice. 'There you see! He admits to it!' Scott shouted again, raking a hand through his hair.

'Now, now Scott.' Xavier admonished, raising a hand to stem the flow of words. 'Logan, surely you didn't do that on purpose, did you?' His voice was calm, almost fatherly again. Logan stood rooted to the spot, face slack with shock. Then, in the blink of an eye, it became tight with fury. 'What part of Scooter's story _didn't _you understand, Charlie? I almost _killed _'Ro! With these!' The six claws slid smoothly from their prison and were brandished angrily, causing Scott to stiffen. Xavier opened his mouth to speak but Logan overrode him, once again shying from anything Xavier might have said. 'I couldn't stop myself! You know why? 'Cause I. Am. A. Freak. This only proves I belong in a laboratory, not amongst _normal people_.' This twisted snarled confession was completely free of any self-pity, Charles noticed. Logan's eyes were like ice, his stance rigid.

He stopped, looking between the two for a minute before turning abruptly, mumbling,

'I'm leaving.' He began to move off but had only moved across at least half of the room when a blast threw him off his feet. Scott had shot at him. Logan stood, despite the pain and glanced backwards. Another blast hit part of a ship near him, filling the hanger with smoke. No doubt Charles had told Scott to stop him. There was a scrabbling in his mind. Xavier was trying to talk to him. Pushing it from his mind, blocking the telepath as best he could, Logan moved off, guilt burning in his eyes even as his long strides carried him away from the only group of people he had ever even slightly trusted.

_(Taluliaka strolls back on, licking her fingers) Mmm, yummy pizza! Oh, right (clears throat) REIVEW OR NO MORE FOR YOU! _

_**Signing out, from Taluliaka! **_


	4. Alone

_I'M BACK! (ducks as angry fanpeople throw things at her, such as hand grenades and rubber chickens) WELL, HELLO TO YOU TOO! (ducks again as a sofa hurtles over her head)_

_I' haven't updated this in AGES! (angry mutterings heard from the fanpeople, along with sarcastic comments)_

_I'm sorry! But I've been busy with my very popular humor fic. But then Rhiannon UK actually reviewed a poem that only one person had bothered to review and reminded me that Silver Eyed still existed at the bottom of my profile! So I am back, thanks to Rhiannon UK (By the way, you'd better update this after I have coz you left Logan in a life-or – death situation and that's just unacceptable) AHEM! Moving on…_

_**Moon of despair: **I'm sorry I left out the little X's around your name but it was too complicated to work out. Agh! Don't kill the new Logan I gave you! He cost, like, 3 bucks! I feel so mean, it's been AGES since I last updated. Have you died of old age or something waiting? Lol, that would be funny. (chuckles to herself)_

_**Blix Howlett: **Yeah, well, no one likes Scott. He wears gay glasses. (hee hee) Here, have a chapter._

_**Nini the Electrocuted Sheep: **(throws pizza at Blix) Here, have some (how ever many weeks since I've updated) old pizza! (pizza bounces on the ground) hmm…I wouldn't eat it if I were you. Yes, Rogue and Logan shall MEET (evil laughter) How shall she react?_

_**cazycatluver: **It just so happens I LIKE my single (' ') marks. So there. It's too friggin annoying pressing the 'shift' button at the same time you press the quotation marks!_

_**Hottietom: **Don't care who Tom is. He could be a camel for all I cared… (Is he? A camel, that is?) I haven't done ANYTHING to Logan (I don't know what the hell you're talking about, by the way) IT WASN'T ME! Tell the green chicken behind you that the pizza is many weeks old and bounces and he wouldn't want any. See Blix Howlett up there for an example. Bye!_

_**Dog Tags:** Hello! Cool name! That's the whole point of the story! NOTHING happens to Wolvie (more evil laughter) I am kidding. Or am I? No I am…but wait…anyhoo, I shall eat your red jelly cup and GO CRAZY! SJIFJDWIEOUJE JFGUSJEOW Q032985WJFD!_

_**Wolfluver: **Oh, you liked him better when he HAD a soul? Damn…nah, I like his eyes all silver and stuff. Adds to his…aura of big scary claw-man. I am updating so hold onto your dog tags!_

_**Dory Shotgun: **'Sall right mate, I ain't hard-core either. I don't really do reviews either. What's Logan going to do/ What's wrong with who? Ooh that rhymes. I'm a poet and I didn't even know it! (hee hee hee)_

_**My PenName Is: **Thank you and I am updating!_

_**WolvieandSamwise: **(grabs cookies and gobbles) (WandS approaches for story) Taluliaka: Grrr! MY COOKIES! WandS: But I just want the story and some pizza! Taluliaka: Well that's all right then! Catch! (throws both into air, WandS runs to catch it and falls down strategically placed hole) Taluliaka: hee hee hee ha ha ha…_

_**Rhiannon UK: **I kept on typing UL instead of UK just then. About 5 times. Thanks for reminding me this story is overdue! And you did it so well! As soon as I saw someone had actually REVIEWED my poem, I squealed and went right to it! (applauds braininess) Now UPDATE YOUR STORY OR I WILL EAT YOU!_

_**Thanks for reviewing, everyone! Now, do it again! Again, I say!**_

_Batman: 'To the title of the story, Robin!'_

**Silver Eyed**

**Disclaimer: **_Aghttet mushariannana uuugghirarati ttoomariaria uuggiboogie tooseth! Translation: Something akin to I don't own X-Men, I do believe. But how should I know? It's not like I understand that language or anything!_

_To the chapter! (runs off in the entirely wrong direction)_

**Chapter 4: Alone**

Rogue sat quietly, gloved hands held to her mouth in mute horror, her large eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights, trying to absorb what she had just overheard. Professor Xavier and Scott had been loudly arguing in the corridor adjoining the rec room and Rogue, playing a board game with some of her friends, had heard it all. She had never heard Charles shout or even raise his voice before and Jubilee and she had grown huddled together as they listened to the harsh sounds shatter the usual peace.

'Damn it Charles, you know we can't _tame _him. I told you that when we first let him in. And now see what he's done to Ororo! He…'

Charles's voice cut sharply across Scott's, icy tone washing the corridors in sharp disapproval.

'Scott, it's not his _fault_. If it had been you, wouldn't you want a home, friends who wouldn't turn against you at the first sight of a fault in you? Would you have liked me to abandon you when you couldn't control your powers?'

Scott snarled. 'That's a completely different thing, _Professor_. I'm not a freak with metal claws and a freaking lust for blood! I'd go out and take him back to the military myself if I could! It's the place he belongs!'

Silence rang through the corridors, a terrible silence. Rogue and Jubilee hovered, torn between flight and curiosity to see how the confrontation would end. Rogue's eyes glimmered with tears. They were talking about Logan again. They had gone to rescue him from the military…but now, it seemed like they'd rather they had left him there. What was wrong?

Finally, Charles sighed. 'We'll continue this discussion later, Scott. I've tracked Logan to the Starlend Hotel, not too far from here. I tried to talk to him but he blocked me out.' He drew a worried hand across his furrowed brow. 'God knows he's had enough practice. Anyway, he's not moving anywhere now, so we'll give him space…'

Scott was already moving away down the corridor, tense and exhausted. 'Goodnight, Professor.'

'Goodnight Scott,' murmured Charles softly. He wheeled slowly and sadly away, his wheels silently gliding along the carpet. Across the hall, the two girls relaxed. They stared at the abandoned board game for a minute before Jubilee announced she was going to bed. Her friend nodded silently. After Jubilee had left the room, Rogue narrowed her eyes at the board, thinking for a second before seeming to make up her mind.

Rogue stood, grabbing her jacket and slipping out of the room.

Logan paced his room, on edge and furious with himself. _Insane, murdering, bloodthirsty bastard…_The hotel was small and inconspicuous, just right to rent for a tortured night of violent dreams and ripped bedsheets. But no sleep would come. The animal inside was restless, maddened by the innocent blood so violently denied to it. The animal kept pausing to reflect on the human female, the smell of her fear, the way she had spoken with the shrill note of terror shivering in her voice, the sight of her blood…_No, stop it!_

And then it would happen again. The agony, a sharp punch to the gut which drove him to his knees, the silver creeping across his eyes and then…the lust for blood. The lust that grew harder to combat as the night wore on and his resolve crumbled in exhaustion and despair, as the hundreds of beating hearts, the rushing blood, from the sleeping beings around him drove him mad. His claws ripped from his hands again and again, sending crimson rivulets snaking down his knuckles to drip onto the floor.

_So tired, so tired. Can't stop it…can't…_

The room was dark, silent. Thumping blood coming through the walls. Sleeping beings.

Oblivious.

Peaceful.

Victims.

Obstacles, carved from wood and the harsh smell of cement littered the room. A place where the scent of feathers rose. Fowl, flying, slow to take off, slow to run from the predator. No smell of life there though. Just the scent of soft down, spread hazardously across the square of patterned fabric. A window, through which flashing lights were shown. Darkness. Buildings looming all around. There was no forest, no wilderness, but it was full of prey. Scrambling about in short, pointless lives, scurrying about the streets, panicky, swift, their veins filled with gushing blood to spill.

Not aware of the predator that stalked the darkness, that watched them from the shadows. There would be no final scream, no signs to warn the mob that death followed them. A door, easily swung like the bark streamers from old trees, to grant him access to the open spaces beyond these walls.

Reaching for the doorknob, the feral paused, his liquid eyes brightening, as a quick knock came on the door. 'Logan? Logan, it's me. Open up!' The voice was cheery, young. The blood, he could hear it. Only a frame of flimsy wood separated them.

The tap came again, then the doorknob turned. To her surprise, it gave easily and she stepped in. The room was very dark and she had to squint hard to make out shapes. But it wasn't hard at all to see the pair of glowing eyes that watched her. A scraping movement came from the back of the room. She narrowed her eyes further, focusing on the silver orbs.

'Logan? Is that you?'

The feral watched. She stood, still holding the doorknob, making those sounds, not of fear, not yet, but of curiosity and of doubt. The blood thumped so loud in her veins.

He zeroed in on his prey, eyes focusing on her throat with such terrible, mind-numbing concentration it filtered all other things from his mind, except the need to attack, to kill. A soft snarl came from the darkness. 'Logan?' she whispered. Her heart was thumping and she felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck, the age-old reaction of the prey to the predator, of the command, the need to run. A sharp sound echoed through the room, like a knife being drawn slowly across a piece of silk. She had heard that sound before.

Normally, it filled her with a sense of protection, of hope. Now, it just filled her with blind terror.

Somewhere, deep inside the hunter's stalking of its prey, stirred the weak force that still connected the thread of humanity to the beast. The weak thread jerked in horror at the sight of who stood in front of the terror he had unleashed.

_No…it can't be…_

_Marie…_

And then the animal attacked.

_Woohh! Talk about cliffies, people! See, now, Logan has absolutely no control over his animal side. What will he do to Rogue?_

_I like writing as the animalistic side of Logan. I tried to see as the animal might see the hotel room and I liked the result._

_Whether you did is a different matter._

_Please review! (I need more than 30 reviews if you Wolvie-lovers want to beat my most-reviewed story at the moment, Alter Ego) So come on and make everyone know that this is my most-loved story!_

_Until next time (which shall be sooner, I promise you, but ONLY after Rhiannon UK updates her or I refuse to update mine) HAHAHAHAHAHA!_

_**Love Taluliaka**_


	5. Hunt

_Hello ducklings! (ducks a few more things that have been rudely thrown at her, does it quite well until she's taken out by a spacestation) How are we?_

_Geez, took your time getting to more than 30 reviews! Like 2 DAYS OR SOMETHING!_

_Well, I'm not feeling too well today AND I got no sleep last night AND I lent my Jesus Christ Superstar movie version (my second favourite musical) to ShadowGirl63 today so I don't even have THAT to comfort me in my distress…Hey does anyone else looove Jesus Christ Superstar? I am a HUGE fan of Judas. My mum introduced me to it. Now I know, like, every word to every song. Scary, eh?_

_And, as everyone falls asleep from boredom, we move on!_

_**Rhiannon UK: **EVEN though you didn't UPDATE, I am continuing. So you'd BETTER have something to show for it in the next 24 hours! So GET TO WORK or in your words: GET YOUR BUTT INTO GEAR AND UPDATE!_

_**hottietom: **Oh I see. THAT tom. Can't say I'm impressed though. I always did like Spiderman better than Superman. (evil laugh) Though I am a big fan of a song from the soundtrack of Smallville, 'It's not easy to be me' by David Grey. Great song. Bad show. Thanks for reviewing, although I do believe tom may look better as a camel._

_**Nini the Electrocuted Sheep: **Thanks for the compliments. I like writing as a feral. (Taluliaka's eyes glow silver) Moohahahahaha! Ah yes, CLIFFIES! Gotta love them!_

_**Dory Shotgun: **AGGHGH! You are the reason this chapter is going ahead! EVERYONE THANK DORY SHOTGUN! Yes, well, just accept my answers to your questions and move on! I did!_

_**Moonofdespair: **Aggh! A random review! Don't worry I see millions of them! (ducks car) Ha ha missed me! (car rebounds off wall and hits Taluliaka in the back of the head) OUCH!_

_**Blix Howlett: **Thank you for the compliments on my writing of the feral part. I enjoyed doing that. There will be more this chapter!_

_THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING OVER 30 REVIEWS, PEOPLES!_

_Now, on to the title:_

**Silver Eyed**

_And then the disclaimer:_

**Disclaimer: **_Blah, blah…me no own X-Men…blah blah…who cares…I'm not in the mood…leave me alone…STOP PESTERING ME! (blah blah)!_

_And the chapter:_

**Chapter 5: Hunt**

Rogue skidded down the stairs, brown hair flying wildly. She slid and hit the hotel wall but ignored the sudden throb in her shoulder and kept running. Bursting out of the lobby, she raced off down the street. Everything converged into a great blur of blaring car horns, the yells of teenagers and the lights from headlights mingled with the cold blaze of streetlights above. Diving into an alleyway, Rogue curled herself into a tight ball and huddled behind a dumpster. The darkness was overpowering and for a moment she wondered what rapists and addicts might wander in alleyways at night. For a second her heart nearly stopped in horror but she quickly shoved those thoughts aside. She could protect herself after all. Being a mutant certainly had its advantages. Numb with disbelief, Rogue re-played the scene of the past few moments in her mind, frantically searching for some reason, some rational explanation. She found none.

_The claws. They came so quickly, a thrusting punch with the force of an adamantium skeleton behind it, meant to crush her chest like a sponge and impale her like a gutted fish. Without thinking, Rogue reacted._

_She tore off her gloves and grabbed the wicked weapons aimed at her heart. Her fingernails dug into his forearms savagely. Even as she felt the familiar draining sensation, she was greeted by a fierce rush of feral senses and fury that broke over her in a black wave. A shriek of fury came from the darkness and Logan broke free from her hands, retreating into the blackness of the room. Rogue stood still, unable to believe what she had just done, what Logan had tried to do. Then the pained snarls ripped from his throat tore Rogue out of her numb state and she turned and fled, slamming the door shut behind her._

Rogue twined her hands together to stop them from shaking. Any moment, he too would come out of the hotel, come looking for her. She could feel her teeth chattering with shock, her heart pounding with adrenaline. She sneaked a look around the dumpster towards the front of the ally. And there, like some figment from a nightmare stood Logan, claws unsheathed, eyes glowing silver. The mist that wreathed through the streets behind him bound itself around his figure, making him a half-silhouette, a half-dream in the night. But his eyes shone clear and bright, like the cold stars high above. He was staring right at her.

Rogue gasped and stumbled to her feet, moving slowly to the centre of the ally. There was no point cringing when he knew she was there. She tried to meet the blank silver gaze but dropped her eyes after a few horrifying seconds. She could see her death mapped out in those silver depths and it was brutal and dark. Gathering all her courage, she raised her eyes again and searched for some scrap of humanity in the monster that stood before her, some hint of hazel in the blank haze. But there was nothing. Then, suddenly, in her mind, came the most reassuring sound in the world. Charles Xavier's voice. '_Marie.'_

Darkness. A long straight lane. No way for the prey to go now. Like a steep trap, closing about it. Led straight to its own death by its own foolish mind. Other lights and sounds. Blaring. Harsh to sensitive ears. Light, like a lab. Cold light, for operating, for pain. Shy away from the light. Bad memories spinning, spiraling. Shrieks in the darkness. Silver metal. And so much pain. Shivers rippled up the feral's back at the memories, at the helplessness that none who kill should feel. And the prey. Their hated language in his ears. Their weak limbs restraining, hurting. Kill them. Kill the prey.

Other prey are out there. Their hearts thump loudly, counting down the seconds until their death. But now for the female. Brave for one so small. Prey that does not cower, that does not hide and cry the cowards' death-knell when speared through the back. Prey that faces death. Prey that forces a biting pain through his body. That slowed down his blood. Made his heart seem sluggish, his vision darken. Sharp, biting pain. Like shards of glass. And for a minute, the feral had been dying. Every creature knows the slow whisper of death. Only fools fail to recognise their last breath. Prey that sucks the life from predators are courageous prey. But they seal their own fate with their defenses. The small female before him shall die. She fears her own death. She sees the death planned for her in his eyes and cannot accept it, lowers her eyes. She is weak and she will die.

Then a scrabbling, a poking in his head. A voice, speaking, cajoling. The prey's hated language. The feral snarled fiercely, trying to force the voice out of his head. The voice was calling his name. A name he did not remember. A name he did not have. The feral snarled again, sending the brunt of his rage exploding through his mind to batter the intruder. Then the voice retreated. Turn back towards the prey. She is talking again, making the grating sounds with the caroling note of fear. Fear rolls off her. Kill the prey now. Rip open the vein that holds the bubbling red life and watch it spill onto the cold stones. Watch the breaths shudder from her body. Attack. Kill. _Now_.

'_Marie, he won't let me talk to him. I'm sending Ororo and Hank to pick you up. Try talking to him yourself. Keep away from Logan. Just relax and you'll be fine.'_

Xavier's voice was so calm, so reassuring. Marie, however, felt her life beating as fragile as a bird in front of the animal that would crush it from her. Her voice came out shaky, tinged with fear no doubt that Logan could sense. 'Logan, please, don't you remember me? It's me, Rogue. Don't you remember, I hitchhiked in your car when I realised you were a mutant? And you didn't wear a seatbelt? And I told you to? Oh God, please…'

Rogue's voice broke. He was still watching her, his stance still the stance of a killer, his eyes still the eyes of an animal. He would kill her without ever knowing what he had done, without remorse, without mercy. She felt her courage leave her and she screamed mentally to her kind teacher, '_He's not listening!'_ Charles felt her panic and felt a stab of remorse. She was so young, so trusting. Being attacked by the person she had known the longest and felt safe with must have been a terrible mental blow.

Suddenly Rogue let a harsh gasp. Logan was standing right in front of her. He had moved so fast she had not even noticed. His eyes were harsh and empty as they stared at her and all six of his claws were embedded firmly in her chest and ribs. The pain was brutal at first as she looked up in numb disbelief into Logan's face, so much she wanted to scream, to cry. But then even the pain receded away. Rogue's head whirled, her vision graying out and then back in. In wonderment she put out both hands on his arms, slicked with the warmth of her own blood, knowing, somewhere far away, that it would save her life. Feeling the familiar tugging at his very life-force begin again, the feral let out an angry snarl and jerked his claws back out, leaving her wobbling slightly from the force of his backward thrust. Those cold, blank eyes were Rogue's entire world now, filling her head until there was no room for any more light or darkness, pain or emotion to come through and touch her.

The female swayed again, her hands clutching at the empty space where his arms had been. With withering contempt, he sheathed his claws and turned away from her, but had only walked a few strides when the agonizing pain took over again, bending him right to the ground in its force. Hazel floated back across his eyes, covering the blank silver with a terrible expression of pain and horror. He had just stabbed Marie, intentionally, actually enjoying the feel of her blood on his hands, his feral instincts thrilling to the satisfaction of the kill.

_You evil, murdering, sadistic bastard! _Cursing at himself using every colourful expression he had ever learned, Logan sprinted back to the girl's side. Marie was laying still, his trademark claws imprinted in scarlet on her top. Already blood soaked the ground around her. Dropping to the ground, he lifted her head slowly, feeling the life fade from her silent body. He held her to him silently, feeling the tugging at his life begin again and welcoming the pain. He deserved so much more. His eyes burned, hollow and full of a terrible self-control over the top of her head, drowning in emotions too horrible and helpless to name and yet, at the same time, feeling nothing at all. He had stabbed a kid for nothing more than the satisfaction of seeing their blood drip to the floor. Xavier was scrabbling in his mind again, questioning, curious and mortified. If anyone had felt Rogue's pain, it would have been Wheels.

There were voices, footsteps. He lifted his head, smelling their scent blowing towards them on the icy breeze, tinged with the breath of an approaching winter. Ororo and Hank, calling out questions to each other, to Chuck, calling out to Marie, who was stirring slightly on the ground behind him. Logan turned back towards her, watching as her eyes fluttered and opened, taking him in. Instantly, she recoiled from him, her breaths becoming fast and swift, her pupils widening desperately. Her fear hung in the air. Yet another blow to his swiftly shrinking trust in other people, so recently formed and to his conscience. She had every reason to be frightened of the monster in the shadows, the killer in the night. Turning away from the approaching X-Men, Logan moved off into the night, not even a footstep marking which way he had gone.

Marie sat up a little straighter. Logan had been looking at her with his terrible eyes, blank and dead. The only emotion in them seemed to be pain and he was good at masking pain. Always had been. What frightened Marie most, however, was not the lack of emotion in his eyes, their hollow look, the way they swept over her as if it hurt to see her, it was the colour. His eyes were hazel, not silver but they were just as dead, just as blank as they had been a minute ago. Dread swept over Rogue as she stood up, to call out, to chase after him or to run to Ororo and Hank, she didn't know.

But it was already too late. He was gone into the misty darkness of the streets, with only his silver eyed lust for blood for company. And who would help him now, after his attack on her? Who would take the time to tame an animal? Sirens wailed in the distance and Rogue had to blink hard to see past the watery orb of the tears pooling in her eyes and trickling down her face to mingle with the blood on the ground.

_Sigh…that's not considered a cliffie is it? Nope, I didn't think so either._

_Next chapter: THE HUMANS ARE AFTER LOGAN! Mohhahahahahaha!_

_And of course everyone hates Logan for stabbing Rogue AGAIN so they're not likely to come and help either…_

_NOW REVIEW, MILLIONS OF YOU!_

_**Love Taluliaka**_


	6. Caged

_Hello, my painted minions! I…wait a minute… (stares at crowd of angry fangirls) This isn't the Convention of Cannibalistic Painted Minions! Well there's only one thing for it! (curls into ball and awaits heavy and blunt objects to be thrown in her general direction)_

_For all who are interested I HAVE FOUND A TEASER TRAILER FOR X-MEN 3! IT IS A GOOD TRAILER! IT HAS COOL MUSIC PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND! THERE IS WOLVERINE! LOTS OF WOLVERINE! (maniacal laugh) No seriously, you guys should go check it out. It's on the official X-Men 3 site! Yay!_

_**RhiannonUK: **Hellooo! I have updated so you can stop badgering me with those evil badgers! BTW, you'd better start that new Wolverine fic soon! He must get out of the medlab! Out I say!_

_**Elwyndra: **Dear Elwyndra…STOP THROWING THOSE BLUE DUCKS AT ME! Heh heh, one day Logan shall return to the mansion…one day…I'm SORRY you started to die! Please forgive meeee! It wasn't my intention… (shifty eyes)…not at all…_

_**Blix Howlett: **Yeah I know, shunned from the only family he ever cared for… (moment of tearful reflection) Now, back to the torture!Still, it IS such fun shunning people._

_**hottietom: **I have a present for you hottietom! Look, a camel with… (does double take) eyes suspiciously like…Tom Welling, the star of Smallville? Heh heh…he's not a camel…try to think of him as a…large…and cuddly…animal.I watched an episode the other day and Tom got beaten up by his foster dad! It was amusing!_

_**BeastBoyBlitz: **Hello! It's always nice to find a new reviewer that has…well…reviewed. Unless of course you already have…so I shall apologise in advance…Still, thanks for the review!_

_**misc: **It wasn't a cliffie! Was it? Either way, I must now laugh evilly at my cliffie! Moogah! Gahahah! Moohoo!_

_**Shalbrenfan:** Oh thank you for your kind compliments! I like Wolverine fics too! Which might be the reason for me…writing…one. Hmmm. That made sense. Anyway I hope you have fun reading this chappie!_

_Now to the title…_

**Silver Eyed**

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimers…hiss…boo…the reason for their existence shall be forever veiled to me…FINE! I don't own X-Men! I did own that general dude I killed off in the first chapter though! Ha ha! I own a dead evil dude!_

**Chapter 6: Caged**

It was a cold night when Mack arrived at the bar. He hopped down from his old truck, patting the hood with a grin. 'I knew she wouldn't let us down. Betsy could make it in any weather.' His companion slammed his door, shooting his friend an exasperated look. 'With your drivin', it's a wonder we made it here in one piece.' Mack laughed, a deep, rich sound that seemed to drive back the harsh Canadian wind as they headed towards the lit bar, where laughter and loud music streamed out into the night, drawing weary travelers like moths to a flame. 'Yur such a wuss, Greg. I didn't hit ninety the whole way here!'

A couple of drinks later, the companions finally felt intoxicated enough to take notice of what was happening around them in the bar. Most of the people perched on the barstools nearby were facing the cage fight happening in the middle of the bar, screaming for whoever they were betting on and making collective moans or cheers as one fighter got in a particularly good hit to his opponent. Mack wiped his mouth with a belch, finally turning his interest to the cage match. It was actually a fairly new cage. It hadn't been here the last time he had come for a drink. Business must have dropped dramatically for any man to let a bloodthirsty, raging and drunk mob of people inside, those who followed the cage circuit and could never get enough of the violence.

One man, a trucker by the look of his stained overalls and staggering drunken stance, was swinging wildly at the other, cursing richly as he did so. The hits were wide and expertly ducked by his opponent, who stayed in the shadows, the smoky lights causing a mixture of light and shade to wave crazily in a zigzag pattern every so often across his body.Mack craned his neck but couldn't make out who the challenger was fighting. He turned to the bartender, asking, 'Who's fightin' tonight?'

The bartender turned his gaze to ogle a young woman who sat a little further down the bar, wearing scant clothing and old, heavily made-up eyes. 'You wouldn't be thinkin' of trying to start off business in my bar, now would ya, missy?' he called with annoyance. The prostitute ignored the man, her eyes deep in the shot glass she nursed. Turning back to Mack, the bartender answered his question briskly.

'Some guy called 'the Wolverine'. Ain't seen him 'round before. Must be passin' through.' Mack nodded vacantly, turning back to the cage. Greg elbowed him, eyes bloodshot but still calculating. 'Mack, you ain't thinking of fightin' tonight?' Mack shrugged with one shoulder, but his eyes were already watching the Wolverine's form, the way he moved, fought. It would be nice to have a little extra money when you're traveling through this rugged country. And it wasn't as though he had never fought in a cage match before. Any man could get sufficiently drunk and confident enough to do so.

Finally the Wolverine seemed to tire of his drunken opponent. He stepped forward fluidly, ducking lightly under another blow and brought a fist up, smashing the trucker in the stomach and knocking him backwards. Without missing a beat, he brought up a leg and executed a neat kick, which slammed his opponent into the cage wall. Mack's eyes ran over the men, eyeing first the guy lying on the ground struggling to right himself, and then the Wolverine himself. He had muscles but wasn't heavy-set. He was slighter and taller than the trucker and cut a menacing silhouette in the cage. Thick black hair was swept upwards on his head, giving him a wolfish look and, when coupled with his bright harsh eyes, gave him a look of some animal, come out of the wilds of Canada.

The cheers reached a crescendo as the other fighter finally got back up, foaming at the mouth and staggering more than ever. For a moment the Wolverine's eyes swept the crowd with distaste as he turned back to the challenger, passing over Mack with fierce intensity. Mack couldn't suppress a shudder. The eyes of an animal in the body of a man. That wasn't natural, not by a long shot.

Before, the Wolverine seemed to have been content to allow the trucker to totter about the cage stupidly and allow him to tire himself out but now he stepped forward, slamming a fist across the others face. Another fist plunged into the trucker's gut and then a knee in the groin. The man slumped to his knees, tears running down his pudgy face. The Wolverine bent his gaze over his opponent for a moment, before catching the half-hearted punch of the trucker and twisting his arm slowly. The snap of bone echoed loudly in the sudden silence and winces and murmurs of sympathy lingered about the crowd. The man fell back, completely defeated and the Wolverine moved away from him with silent footsteps to the opposite side of the cage, where he leaned, waiting with the infinite patience of a predator for the next challenger.

The emcee quickly ushered two men to remove the beaten trucker from the cage. He bellowed into the microphone, 'Who else will dare to fight? Will we let him go away with our money?' The mention of the money did the trick. The crowd bellowed its disapproval, shaking their fists and yelling at the silent figure in the cage. But no one stepped forward. One bold man threw a beer bottle at the cage and the silent fighter and it shattered on impact, shards of glass tinkling across the floor. The Wolverine didn't move. More shouts erupted from the crowd and more bottles were thrown. The mob was starting to turn ugly and Mack made a split second decision.

He stood, turning his body to Greg, his eyes never leaving the Wolverine. 'Guess I am fightin' tonight.' Mack strode towards the cage, waving at the emcee, who quickly pointed him out, yelling encouragement into the microphone as the cheers rose up again from the stands, their anger forgotten with the promise of more bloodshed. As he moved up the steps, he halted beside the man, asking, 'How long has he been fighting?'

The emcee turned towards him, flashing a bright smile, 'Ages, mate. I've been standing here since seven.' Mack smiled. Things were looking up. Exhausted men were easy to beat.

Logan leaned quietly, letting the roar of the crowd wash over him. All the time in between his last fight and this one melted away. It was as though it was the same cage in Laughlin City where he had met Rogue…Immediately his eyes hardened, remembering how they had parted that night, almost a month ago. He had left her soaked in her own blood, from a wound he had inflicted with cold indifference. Then he rolled his shoulders, hearing the clang of the bell, trying to dispel the memory of that bloody night from his mind. But it wouldn't go away.

His hands started to shake.

A hot flush glided over his eyes and he passed a hand over them, scarcely believing it.

_Jesus, this hasn't happened for weeks! Goddamn weeks! Not here…not now…_

Mack swayed behind him, fists up. His opponent wouldn't turn around and face him. He watched the Wolverine's hands clench into shaking fists and his brow furrowed in confusion. The bell had rung. Why wasn't he doing anything? 'Hey!' Mack yelled. His opponent's head snapped up and turned slightly. His fists were clenched so tightly they had turned white. 'Ain't you gonna fight? You scared or somethin'?'

Logan closed his eyes, trying to bury his primal urge to rip apart the man behind him. He smiled a little at the irony. If that man had known what he was, he would probably have been running in the opposite direction as fast as he could. But, then again…maybe he wouldn't. Drink could stir courage in a man hidden so deep it could only be brought out by an extremely dangerous and stupid situation. Now, because of that courage, and, of course, his complete oblivion to what Logan was, he was going to die.

'You are scared aren't ya? Come on! _Come on!_'

The feral whirled so fast that Mack didn't even see the fist aimed for his head. His body soared through the air, smashing into the opposite end of the cage and sliding to the floor. He took two steps towards his fallen prey, his eyes shining bright as the moon in the shadows of the bar. The prey's heartbeat was still strong. Even unconscious, the blood called him. The feral blocked out the exclamations of surprise at his eyes from the people surrounding the ring. He took another step towards the man.

But a drunken yell stopped his advance, cutting through his concentration like a knife. 'I know him! I know that guy! I know what he is!' Somewhere, a memory pulled at his mind, of the bar in Laughlin City, of his last challenger, the guy who had tried to stab him in the bar to get back the money. His friend had called him Stu. The memory was then swept away, the feral marking him nonchalantly as the next to die, intent on the crumpled man in the cage. He took another step.

'He's a mutant!' slurred Stu, pointing unsteadily at Logan. 'He's got claws!' His own hands bent into claws in demonstration and the crowd cried out in revelation, nudging their companions. An undercurrent of anger crept through the mob. After all, it wasn't so long ago that all the humans in the world had been attacked by mutant terrorists, the pain in their heads driving many to the ground. A deep grudge festered in the hearts of many. More bottles were flung at the cage.

Some shards of glass found their mark and Logan turned his attention to a particularly large piece sticking out of one of his ribs. The sudden pain was enough to return his eyes to their normal colour as he wrenched it out of his body, his face tight as the blood flowed from his side. Seeing his distraction, Greg ran and rescued his friend from the cage, dragging the stirring Mack down the steps and away from the mutant in silent horror.

The door slammed again, locking Logan firmly inside. More shouts and curses were hurled with the bottles and chair legs, while over the top of the sound the bartender was yelling into the phone, 'Get me the cops! Get me the army! Get me anyone! There's a dangerous mutant loose in my bar!' Some bolder men got closer, brandishing guns and knives. Logan backed a little, struggling not to give in to the ultimate goal of slicing through the cage wall and killing them all. One man shot a bullet. The aim was wide and it struck the wall behind him but the threat was clear.

With a warning snarl, Logan unsheathed his claws. The glint of the bright steel stilled every throat in shock, before the prostitute screamed, a high, piercing shriek. Stu yelled out, 'Told you 'e had claws!' And the mob streamed against the bars in a wave, shaking them, screaming insults. The prostitute fled the bar in terror and Logan watched, with a kind of detached envy. If only he could run too…

The door burst open and several police charged in, most holding rifles or handguns. They fought their way through the crowd to stand on the steps at the entrance to the cage. 'Look mutant, we don't want any trouble! Just get rid of the claws and we'll talk!'

_Sure, talk…_

'You let me walk out of this bar and no-one gets hurt.'

'Get rid of the claws!' bellowed their leader with a hint of panic in his voice. The feral part of him could smell his fear. There was a moment of tension before Logan relaxed and he sheathed them. 'Now…' began the policeman nervously but Logan overrode him. 'If you don't let me go…' he struggled to continue as he began to shake again. 'If you don't let me go, everyone here will die.'

The crowd of men began to yell in disapproval, clearly wanting to see the mutant brought down. Blood pumped through their veins, slowed by the alcohol, the continuous thump boring into Logan's ears. In a last desperate attempt to control himself, he crossed to the door and grabbed the leader by his throat, dragging him close. 'Let me go,' he snarled.

Clawing at Logan's hand, unable to tear it away to get oxygen, the man gasped, 'I can't…just let you…walk away…' For a moment the grip on his throat relaxed, then tightened again, smacking him into the door. His gun clattered down the stairs. The leader could hear his companions yelling his name and raising their guns but he waved them back, hypnotized by the mutant's glowing silver eyes.

He looked for mercy in those cold orbs and for a minute, an expression akin to remorse appeared in the hard face. Then it was gone and he was staring into chips of ice. Shoving him away so the leader staggered backwards down the stairs and was caught by his own men, the feral mutant took an almost imperceptible step, shifting into a fighting stance, his claws glowing cold.

To the mob, he was just an animal in a cage, something to be beaten into submission.

To the feral, they were just prey, begging to be ripped open with their blood swamping the floor.

Several shots rang out and the feral recoiled, a low rumbling growing in his chest as he surveyed the bullet hole in his shoulder. There was a tinkle as the bullet fell to the ground. The feral allowed himself a brief smile at the murmured bewilderment of his prey.

Then his claws slashed open the cage and he was upon them.

_Now, you must review me! REVIEW MEEEE! For I finally have an idea where this story shall go! Moohahhahaaaaa!_

_Until next time, which shall I promise you be sooner than my previous long space between chapters 5 and 6,_

_Taluliaka_


	7. Blizzard

_Hello again people! It's 2006 (obviously) and I have decided that, since I haven't posted a chappie all year, today would a good day to! _

_**RhiannonUK: **Yeah, well I never actually got your review on this one, but I'm sure it was full of glowing compliments and hero worship! Heh heh_ _YOU'D BETTER UPDATE SOON! _

_**Elwndrya: **Save Wolverine? Don't you mean save those poor mutie haters in the bar? They're the ones who are going to get sliced open and stuff!_

_**ShalBrenFan:** Well I'm glad you're enjoying the story! It's always good to get good comments that are good. Good…I'm having great fun writing this story and I hope you stay for the ride!_

_**hottietom: **Oh yes Clark was beaten up by his foster dad! Ralph or Jeff or whatever his name was…When he was all evil, with the red S on his chest, his dad threw him into barn walls and stuff. I personally like Lex Luthor...so evil! SO BALD…I don't know why I made you wait this long for an update…perverse pleasure? A diabolical plan? _

_**glennscm:** I'm glad you like it! I like it too!_

_**Thanks to everyone that reviewed!**_

**Silver Eyed**

**Disclaimer: **_Do you think if I owned X-Men I would be filling this out? No, I'd get someone else to do it for me! _

**Chapter 7: Blizzard**

One minute the crowd was surging forward, brandishing weapons in the arrogance connected with large numbers…and the next there was nothing.

The lights flickered then went out, plunging the room into pitch black. The crowd faltered, milled.

There was the harsh shriek of metal on metal, as six deadly claws severed the bars of the cage. Sparks shattered in all directions and flared out just as quickly. A chorus of terrified screams began, now separated from their enemy by the most depended upon and beloved human sense: sight. Several fights broke out in the muddle, which evolved into an all-out brawl. By the time the barkeeper had grabbed a torch and located the light switch, the mutant they had all been so intent on killing had disappeared. The cage lay destroyed on the ground.

The prostitute that had fled the bar had returned and was sitting demurely on a stool. Nobody noticed her calm, contrasting strangely with the hysteria of before. She bent her head as her eyes flashed yellow, igniting with interest for a brief moment, before she left the bar for the second time that night, stepping with a lithe confidence unusual in downtrodden street whores, leaving the humans in uproar.

* * *

Logan eyed his motorbike as it filled with petrol, noting the long scrapes along its side. When he had first bought it from a questionable area of some small town from some extremely questionable people, he hadn't really looked it over more thoroughly than making sure it had all the basic components of a bike. Like two wheels and an engine.

But now, under the harsh lights of the service station, it looked like shit.

Turning away from the bike, he looked back down the highway. He couldn't see any police cars in pursuit of him, or any angry mobs with bloodhounds. Actually since he had walked out of the chaos in the bar and gotten the hell out of there, he hadn't seen anyone.

He still didn't know who had flipped the switches in the bar and allowed him to run without killing everyone. Certainly not any of the humans there. For a moment, he had caught the scent of another mutant, someone who was vaguely familiar, but he had brushed it aside.

He heard the clicking of heels as another customer walked nearby and lowered his face slightly, draping it in shadow. He wasn't quite sure whether his eyes had returned to normal yet and women had the tendency to blast his sensitive hearing with their screams. But the heels kept approaching. Brow furrowing, Logan stepped slightly further back into the dark.

Suddenly somebody pressed him against the wall, their lips locked with his, their perfumed scent hanging richly around him. The slut from the bar smiled at him as he pushed her away into the light, her arms still looped around his neck. 'What are you doing?' he asked, breathing in her scent again and feeling lightheaded. That was some strong perfume. One of her hands brushed his cheek before he pushed it firmly away.

'I couldn't help noticin' your curious eyes…'

He was getting her real scent, familiar, foreboding…

'Sorry. Not interested. I'm racist, see?'

She eyed him in confusion and something flickered in the depths of her baby blues that set Logan's teeth on edge.

'Got this thing against blue women.'

Her smile was nothing short of predatory as blue scales rippled over her body, her eyes turning a tawny yellow as her hair slicked back against her skull. Mystique drew away from him.

'I have a proposition for you.'

Something clenched deep in Logan's gut. If Magneto was down to making 'propositions', with _him _of all people, he must be getting desperate to kick off this mutant/human war.

'Join us for this war and Eric will give you what Xavier never can.'

The sentence sent a thrill up his metal spine.

'What?'

She leaned closer, caressing the air with the single word she dangled so tantalizingly in front of him.

'_Revenge.'_

Logan clenched his hands into fists and lowered his head again, lest Mystique should see the glint in his eyes. He had lived for revenge…._in there_. The same hate he had felt eyeing the drunken crowd in the bar, hate and revulsion. They dared judge him just because he was different. It was true, Xavier couldn't handle a heap of deaths on his conscience, even if they had been the ones who had torn him apart a second time. Even if they deserved it.

She was still talking, her voice a poison edging into his skin…

'How long did they leave you there? _The X-Men?_ They could have rescued you the day you were taken…but they left you there for weeks, being tortured…..'

The feral part of his mind stirred, drawing strength and looming like a thundercloud.

'…fight with us and we can track them down, wherever they've run to, and they can pay…we can give you revenge!'

Something in him snapped.

'NO! No, I can't….no….'

He stepped away from her, withdrawing into himself from the temptation. Focused on calming himself enough to unclench his fists, he didn't notice the look that twisted Mystique's features for a brief moment, a trail of regret and annoyance.

'Fine.'

Her voice and a new scent hit him at the same time. Logan's eyes blazed silver as he realised it was Sabertooth, miraculously resurrected from Liberty Island, and judging by the ominous growls, very pissed off. He whirled as a flash of dull metal soared across his field of vision and smashed him across the skull. Logan stumbled and fell, red lights rippling across his eyes, feeling the pole brush his hair as it sped past again. Unfortunately, this luck was short-lived and the next blow struck home. Agony roared sickly through his head.

As he tried to gather his thoughts, something lumbered into his blurred vision and he slashed at it blindly. He felt Sabertooth scream through the vibration in his claws and for a moment his senses seemed to clear. Staggering to his knees, he tried to stand before being knocked flat with a vicious blow to the back of his head, losing consciousness instantly.

Sabertooth made a harsh sound of amusement, stepping forward with his bloodstained weapon to deliver more of the same treatment. Mystique stopped him. 'Stop it and get moving,' she hissed angrily, batting the pole aside. The thunderous growl didn't intimidate the mutant as she stepped lightly away to contact Eric.

* * *

Pyro sighed to himself, drawing a random picture on the snow-encrusted ground with a pointy stick. The wind was venomously cold and he shuffled to keep warm, stamping his feet. The flinty clicks of his lighter was snatched up by the wind and whirled away amongst the swaying trees. How long had they been standing there? Two hours? Three?

He glanced sideways. Mystique and Sabertooth stood in exactly the same positions, eyeing the black-and-white landscape for any hint of movement. How the hell could Mystique stand there in the middle of a blizzard naked?

His scrutiny made Mystique turn towards him, her yellow eyes burning unusually bright. He had endured this stare before and knew what it meant. He hastily turned his eyes back to the swirling snow eddies.

_I'm watchin'… I'm watchin'…I am "on guard"…_

Suddenly something caught his eye. Pyro squinted, raising his lighter in readiness. It was about time…

A dead stick fell to the ground with a soft thump from a snow-covered tree.

'Oh, for Christ's sake!' He threw down his drawing stick in disgust.

'What the hell are we waiting for? They're not coming! _He's_ as good as dead! Can we GO now? I'm freezing!'

Now both Brotherhood members were staring at him. Immediately Pyro felt like a child. To cover his embarrassment, he flicked the stick back up into his hand with a foot and strode over to the large tree they were standing around. 'See?' Keeping a cautious distance just in case he happened to be wrong, Pyro gingerly prodded the body. There was no reaction.

It was hard to associate this impaled corpse with the man he had once known as the Wolverine. He had once inspired terror and awe in the students with his feral rage and the promise of violence that had always lurked in his eyes, but this thing…He prodded it again. Nothing but a shell, covered in dried and fresh blood.

The actual impalement had not nauseated Pyro as much as the gleeful expression on Sabertooth's face as he had shoved the splintered tree trunk through Logan's stomach. With his hands tied behind the tree, the most Wolverine could do was spasm and writhe as his gaping wound closed and re-opened. He reminded Pyro of a wolf he had once seen die, caught in a wolf trap. It had gone completely insane, clawing itself and snarling, with mad, staring eyes that the light faded from as its blood darkened the ground.

Morbidly fascinated with the way Logan's body healed and ripped apart again around the tree, Pyro had drawn too close and had gotten a fierce slash down his arm. The cuts were stinging again and Pyro rolled his shoulder, eyeing the motionless mutant with resentment.

Mystique's quiet remark cut through Pyro's thoughts as she walked past him, not even glancing at Wolverine's body. 'I actually thought they would come.' Her amused smirk twisted and blurred with the flakes of snow. 'Why did Magneto want him dead so badly?' Sabertooth pushed Pyro away from the body, not bothering to answer the question.

* * *

Logan had no recollection of when the Brotherhood left him to die, when their presence no longer lingered fuzzily on the edge of his senses. All he knew was that blood was still flowing from his stomach, turning the snow at his feet a vivid red. Of course the flow was much slower now, but it was there, reminding him of each painful second he continued to breathe. He raised his head from his chest, the smell of blood finally overwhelming him and he rested it against the trunk, staring out at the snow that blew by. Vertigo gripped him, mixed with waking nightmares. Scintillating images tore his mind with angered claws, blurring reality until there was nothing but a grey buzz.

Eternity slipped by and there was no end to the pain. Harsher gusts of winds swept the Canadian night and his eyes began to stare sightlessly, reflecting the snow and the darkness that seemed to snuff out the very spark of life.

_CLIFFIE! Oh how I love them!_

_Next update: I shall stop torturing Logan. For a while…He needs a break, I reckon._

_I'm so sad! Five reviews from my last chapter! Only five people! Are you guys losing interest in my story? Please contact me and tell me what's up! Or just drop a review…whichever you prefer. _

_**Taluliaka**_


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